OLDEN 
REASURY 

IFTED MIND 




COMPILED By 

Ha Hadley Hickman 





Class m 

Book Jn 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




Stella Hartley Hickman. 



The Golden Treasury 
From Gifted Minds 



Selected and Arranged by 

STELLA HADLEY HICKMAN 




BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
NEW YORK AND BALTIMORE 










Copyright, 1909, 

BY 

STELLA HADLEY HICKMAN. 



CCIA253725 



TO THE 

NATIONAL FEDERATION 

OF 

WOMEN'S CLUBS 



Content0 



CONTENTS 



Addison, Joseph 9 

Aldrich. Thomas Baily 10 

Alcott, Louisa May 12 

Arnold, Matthew 13 

Browning, Robert 14 

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett 15 

Bryant, William Cullen 17 

Burns, Robert 18 

Cary, Alice 20 

Cary, Phoebe 21 

Carlyle, Thomas 22 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 24 

Chaucer, Geoffrey 26 

Dickens, Charles 27 

Dunbar, Paul Laurence 29 

Dry den, John 30 

Eliot, George 31 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo 32 

Franklin, Benj amin 34 

Gordon, George Lord Byron 35 

Gray, Thomas 37 

Goldsmith, Oliver 38 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel 39 

Hemans, Felicia Dorothea 40 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell 42 

Jackson, Helen H unt 43 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 45 

Lowell, James Russell 47 

Milton, John 48 

Poe, Edgar Allan 50 

Pope, Alexander 51 

Ruskin, John 53 

Shakespeare, William 55 

Scott, Sir Walter 56 

Sangster, Margaret E 58 



5 



Contents 



Tennyson, Alfred Lord 59 

Thackeray, William Makepeace 61 

Wilcox, Ella Wheeler 63 

Whittier, John Greenleaf 65 

Wordsworth, William 67 

Whitman, Walt 68 

Thoughts on Woman 70 

Thoughts on Truth 76 

Thoughts on Beauty 78 

Thoughts on Happiness 79 

Thoughts on Education 80 

Thoughts on Love 82 

Thoughts on Opportunity 85 

Thoughts on Death 87 

Thoughts on Work 89 

Thoughts on Dreams 91 

Thoughts on Sorrow 93 

Thoughts on Books 94 

Thoughts on Poetry 96 

Thoughts on Religion 97 

Thoughts on War 99 

Thoughts on Peace 100 

Thoughts on Nature 101 

Index 109 



INTRODUCTION 

The "Golden Treasury from Gifted 
Minds" is designed for use in Reading Circle 
work, Women's Literary Clubs, Mothers' Cir- 
cles, or wherever Roll Call is given with a 
quotation from an author. 

It will also be found helpful by the Parent, 
the Minister, the Orator, the Teacher, and the 
Student. 

These beautiful and inspiring thoughts 
from gifted minds cannot but add much to 
the development of higher ideals and loftier 
ambitions. 

Holmes says: "We all unconsciously work 
over ideas gathered in reading and hearing, 
imagining they were original with ourselves." 
If this be true, how necessary that "a man's 
reach should exceed his grasp, or what is 
heaven for?" S. H. H. 



The Golden Treasury from 
Gifted Minds 

JOSEPH ADDISON. 

1612-1719. 

English poet and moralist. He wrote a 
tragedy called "Cato." His best contributions 
to literature are his essays which he sent to 
the Spectator and the Tatler. 

'Tis not in mortals to command success, 
But we'll do more, Sempronius, we'll deserve 
it. — Cato. 

He approachest nearest to the gods who knows 
How to be silent, even though he is in the 
right. — Cato. 

Sunday clears away the rust of the whole 
week. — Spectator. 

In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing as they shine, 
The hand that made us is divine. 
9 



Cfte (golPett Cteasutg 

A statue lies hid in a block of marble, and 
the statuary only clears away the superfluous 
matter and removes the rubbish. The figure 

is in the stone: the sculptor only finds it. 
What sculpture is to a block of marble, edu- 
cation is to a human soul. 

Books are the legacies that a great genius 
leaves to mankind. — Spectator. 

He that will carry nothing about him but 
gold, will be every day at a loss for readier 
change. 



THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. 

1 836- 1 907. 

An American author, editor and poet. 
Among his works are : "Ballad of Babie Bell," 
' 'Fredericksburg," "Marjorie Daw," and a 
group of poems dealing with Oriental themes : 
"When the Sultan Goes to Ispahan," and 
"Dressing the Bride." 

"I'll not confer with sorrow, till to-morrow ; 
But joy shall have her way, this very day. 
10 



Jfrom (gtften QginPg 

Tears, if you will, but after, Mirth and 

Laughter ; 
Then folded hands on breast, and endless rest." 
— I'll Not Confer with Sorrow. 

Cynicism is a small brass field-piece that 
eventually breaks and kills the cannoneer. 

— Marjorie Daw. 

"What mortal knows whence comes the tint 
and color of the rose." 

"Unless the diamond, with its own rich dust, 
be cut and polished, it seems little worth." 

When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away, 
And in a dream as in a fairy bark 
Drift on and on through the enchanted dark 
To purple daybreak — little thought we pay 
To that sweet bitter world we know by day. 

— Sleep. 

"The peaches are ripe in the orchard, 

The apricots ready to fall, 
And the grapes reach up to the sunshine, 

Over the garden wall." 



II 



Cfte (gotoen Cteasutg 

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT. 

1833-1888. 

One of the most popular 01 American 
writers of juvenile books. Among her best- 
known works are "Little Men," "Little Wom- 
en," "Old Fashioned Girl," and "Aunt Jo's 
Scrap-Bag." She acted as hospital nurse dur- 
ing the "Civil War." 

"Singing winds, and magic waters, 

Golden shadows, silver rain, 
Spells that make the sad heart happy, 

Sleep that cures the sharpest pain." 

"The sweetest thing of all, 
The sunshine of each day." 

"Go up higher, go up higher, 

Far beyond the waterfall ; 
Follow Echo up the mountain, 

She will answer to your call." 

"It seemed to be sunset, for the sky was 
red, the flowers all dreaming behind their 
green curtains, the birds tucked up in their 
nests, and there was no sound but the whisper 
of the wind that softly sang, 

" 'Good night/ 'Good night/ " 

— Eva's Visit to Fairyland. 
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jftom (gifteD QginDg 

MATTHEW ARNOLD. 

1822-1888. 

English poet and prose writer. Among his 
poems are "Sohrab and Rustum," "The For- 
saken Merman," and the "Balder Dead." 

We have to turn to poetry to interpret life 
for us. — Essays in Criticism. 

Human longings, human fears, 
Miss our eyes and miss our ears, 
Little helping, wounding much, 
Dull of heart, and hard of touch. 

— Birds and Men. 

For we are all, like swimmers in a sea, 

Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate, 

Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall 

And whether it will heave us up to land, 

Or whether it will roll us out to sea, 

Back out to sea, to the deep wave of death, 

We know not, and no search will make us 

know ; 
Only the event will teach us in its hour. 

— Sohrab and Rustum. 

"Time is the mind's best friend, even if he 
seems to be the enemy of the body." 
13 



Cf)e (golDen Cteasutg 

We cannot kindle when we will 
The fire which in the heart resides, 

The spirit bloweth and is still, 
In mystery our soul abides. 

But tasks in hours of insight will'd 

Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd. 

— Morality. 



ROBERT BROWNING. 
1812-1889. 

English poet. Among his writings are : "The 
Ring and the Book," "Men and Women," "A 
Soul's Desire," "My Last Duchess," "Paracel- 
sus," "Sordello," "Pauline," "In a Balcony," 
"Cleon," and "Evelyn Hope." 

A minute's success pays for the failure of 
years. 

Unanswered yet ? Nay, do not say ungranted ; 

Perhaps your part is not yet wholly done. 
The work began when first your prayer was 
uttered, 
And God will finish what He has begun 
If you will keep the incense burning there; 
His glory you shall see sometime, somewhere. 
14 



jFrom (gifteD SgittPg 

My own hope is, a sun will pierce 

The thickest cloud earth ever stretched ; 

That, after Last, returns the First, 

Though a wide compass round be fetched ; 

That what began best can't end worst, 

Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst. 

— Apparent Failure. 

When the fight begins within himself, 
A man's worth something. 

— Bishop Blougram 's Apology. 

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his 
grasp, or what is heaven for? 

— Andrea del Sarto. 

All service ranks the same with God, 

With God, whose puppets, best and worst, are 

we: 
There is no last nor first. — Pippa Passes. 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 

1809-1861. 

An English poet. Wife of Robert Brown- 
ing. Author of "Sonnets from the Portu- 

15 



Cfte (goiaen Creagurg 

guese," which are said to be the finest sonnets 
written in any language since Shakespeare; 
"Aurora Leigh," "Casa Guidi Windows." 

The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, 
Whose deeds, both great and small, 

Are close-knit strands of unbroken thread, 
Where love ennobles all. 

The world may sound no trumpets, ring no 
bells ; 

The book of life the shining record tells. 

Behind no prison grate, she said, 

Which slurs the sunshine half a mile, 

Live captives so uncomforted 
As souls behind a smile. 

— The Mask. 

Books and thoughts and dreams and do- 
mestic tenderness can and ought to leave no- 
body lamenting. 

There's nothing low in love, when love the 

lowest : 
Meanest creatures who love God, God accepts 

while loving so. 

— Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

Be still and strong, 

And keep thy soul's large window pure from 
wrong. 

16 



jftoffl ®ffieP gjginDg 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
1794-1878. 

American poet and journalist. First Amer- 
ican poet who became noted. His poems of 
nature are among the best written. "Thana- 
topsis," "The Death of the Flowers," "To a 
Waterfowl," and "The Forest Hymn." 

The hills, rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun — 
The vales, stretching in pensive quietness be- 
tween ; 
The venerable woods — rivers that move in 

majesty, 
And the complaining brooks that make the 

meadows green; 
And, poured round all, old Ocean's gray and 
melancholy waste — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. 

— Thanatopsis. 

For God has marked each sorrowing day, 
And numbered every secret tear, 
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 
For all his children suffer here. 

Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
The eternal years of God are hers; 
17 



C&e (golDett Creagucp 

But error, wounded, writhes with pain 
And dies among his worshipers. 

— The Battlefield. 

Loveliest of lovely things are they, 
On earth, that soonest pass away. 
— A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson. 

To him who in the love of nature holds com- 
munion 

With her visible forms, she speaks a various 
language ; 

For his gayer hours she has a voice of glad- 
ness, 

And a smile and eloquence of beauty, and she 
glides 

Into his darker musings with a mild and heal- 
ing sympathy 

That steals away their sharpness ere he is 
aware. — Thanatopsis. 



ROBERT BURNS. 
1759-1796. 



A Scotch poet, called the Love Poet. Car- 
lyle says of him: "The genius of Burns was 
18 



(From (gifteP 9ginO0 

never seen in clear azure splendor, enlighten- 
ing the world, but some beams of it did, by 
fists, pierce through : and it tinted those clouds 
with rainbow and Orient colors into a glory 
and stern grandeur, which men silently gazed 
on with wonder and tears." "Highland 
Mary," "Coming Through the Rye," and 
"Tarn O'Shanter" are among his best-known 
poems. 

To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile 

Assiduous wait upon her, 
And gather gear by every wile 

That's justified by honor. 
Not for to hide it in a hedge, 

Not for a train attendant, 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent. 

— Letter to a Friend. 

For a' that, and a' that, 

Their dignities, and a' that; 

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 
Are higher ranks than a' that. 

—For A' That, and A' That. 

Had we never loved sae kindly, 

Had we never loved sae blindly, 
Never met, or never parted, 

We had ne'er been broken-hearted ! 
— Ae Fond Kiss. 
19 



Cfte (goisen Cteagutg 

Man's inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn. 

An honest man's the noblest work of God. 



ALICE CARY. 
1 822- 1 870. 



American author and poet. Her juvenile 
writings are among her best productions. 
"November," "The Right Way." 
"We must not hope to be mowers, 

And to gather the ripe, golden ears, 
Until we have first been sowers 

And watered the furrows with tears. 

"True worth is in being, not seeming — 
In doing each day that goes by 

Some little good — not in dreaming 
Of great things to do by and by." 

— Nobility. 

"Not what God gives, but what He takes, 

Uplifts us to the holiest height; 
On truth's rough crags life's current breaks 

To diamond light. 

20 



Jftom (SifteD gjjinDg 



"We tread through fields of speckled flowers, 

As if we did not know 
Our Father made them beautiful 

Because he loves us so. 

"Look for goodness, look for gladness ; 

You will meet them all the while. 
If you bring a smiling visage 

To the glass you meet a smile." 

— Do Not Look for Wrong and Evil. 

"He who loves the best his fellow man 
Is loving God the holiest way he can. 

"And he that does one fault at first, 
And lies to hide it, makes it two." 



PHCEBE CARY. 
1834-1871. 



American poet, who, with her sister Alice, 
wrote "Clover Nook," a collection of poems. 
She is the author of the beautiful hymn, 
"Nearer Home." Among her poems are 
"Suppose" and "Our Homestead." 
21 



Cfac (SoIDcn Crcasurp 

,"Oh. for a mind more clear to see — 
A hand to work more earnestly 
For every good intent." 

"There are as many pleasant things. 

As many pleasant tones. 
For those who dwell by cottage hearths 

As those who sit on thrones." 

"All obedience worth the name 
Must be prompt and ready." 

"If a task is once begun. 
Never leave it till it's done ; 
Be the labor great or small. 
Do it well or not at all." 
"If you are told to do a thing. 

And mean to do it. really. 
Never let it be by halves : 
Do it fully, freely." 

"Whatever comes or doesn't come. 
Do the best vou can." 



THOMAS CARLYLE. 

1795-1889. 

English writer. He preached the gospel of 
work, truth, duty, and force. His best-known 
22 



,From ©iftcD agtnDs 



vks are Life :£ OHver CromwelL" "The 
7-ench Revolution," and "Heroes and Hero 
Worship 

Do the Duty which lies nearest to thee, 
which thou knowest to be a Duty! Thy sec- 
ond Duty will already have become dearer. 

— Sartor Resarfus. 



/action is useless 
action. 



All true work i: m all true work, 

re it but true hand labor, there is something 

of divineness. Labor, wide as the earth, has 

limit in heaven. — Past and Present. 

We are all poets when we read a poem wdL 

— Heroes and Hero Worship. 

The present is the sum total of all the past. 
— Past and Present. 

Grei: -rr.tr. = rt :..-.::.:-.:.: :. ~irki :z ir.t rex: 
: : : :rr.t 

— Inscription at Winchester School. 

"Without real masters you cannot have 
savanto 

23 



Cfte (SoIDen Cteasutg 

"Our grand business is not to see what lies 
dimly at a distance, but to do what lies already 
at hand." 

"Make yourself an honest man. and then 
you may be sure there is one less rascal in the 
world." 

"Always there is a black spot in our sun- 
shine; it is the shadow of ourselves." 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 

1772-1834. 

English poet and critic. He wrote "Lyrical 
Ballads" with Wordsworth. "The Ancient 
Mariner" and "Table Talks" are among his 
writings. 

"To be wroth with one we love 
Doth work like madness in the brain." 

— Christabel. 

"Poetry has been to me its own exceeding 
great reward. It has soothed my afflictions, 
it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments, 
24 



jftom 0ifteD QginDS 

it has endeared solitude, and it has given me 
the habit of wishing to discover the good and 
the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds 
me." 

"What hast thou, man, that thou dost call 

thine own? 
What is there in thee, man, that can be 

known ? 
Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God." 

"He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast." 

— The Ancient Mariner. 

"He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things, both great and small; 

For the dear God who loveth us 
He made and loveth all." 

— The Ancient Mariner. 

"Be Martha still in deed and good endeavor, 
In faith like Mary, at His feet forever." 

"A mother is a mother still, 
The holiest thing alive." 

"O'er wayward childhood wouldst thou hold 
firm rule, 
And sun thee in the light of happy faces, 
25 



Cfte (SolDen Cteagutg 

Love, hope, and patience, let these be thy 
graces, 
And in thine own heart let them first keep 
school." 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 

1 340- 1 400. 

He is called the father of English poetry. 
Chaucer ranks with the great poets of the 
world. He is best known by "The Canterbury 
Tales." 

Flee from the press and dwell with truthful- 
ness; 

Suffice to thee thy good, though it be small — 

For wealth breeds hate, and climbing, dizzi- 
ness ; 

The mob hath envy, riches blind us all; 

Wish not to taste what doth not to thee fall; 

Do well thyself, before thou striv'st to lead, 

And truth shall thee deliver without dread. 
— A Ballad of Good Counsel. 

Joy of this world for time will not abide ; 
From day to day it changeth as the tide. 
— Canterbury Tales. 
26 



jftom (SifteD gjjinDg 

Truth is the highest thing that man may kepe. 

— Canterbury Tales. 

Daunce so comlily, 

Carole and singe so swetely, 

Laugh and pleye so womanly. 

— Book of the Duchesse. 

A good man was ther of religion, 

And was a poure Parson of a toun; 

But riche he was of holy thought and werk. 

He was also a lerned man, a clerk 

That Christes gospel trewely wolde preche; 

His parischens devoutly wolde he teche. 

Benigne he was and wonder diligent, 

And in adversite ful pacient. 

— Prologue to Canterbury Tales. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 

1812-1870. 

English writer. He is the author of many 
books. Among them are "The Pickwick Pa- 
pers," "David Copperfield," "Oliver Twist," 
"Little Dorrit," and "Nicholas Nickleby." 
27 



Cfte (golDen Cteasutg 

There is no substitute for thorough-going, 
ardent, sincere earnestness. 

The serviceable, safe, certain, remunerative, 
attainable quality, in every study and in every 
pursuit, is the quality of attention. 

Seek not a life for the dear ones 

All radiant, as others have done, 
But that life may have just as much shadow 

To temper the glare of the sun; 
I would pray God to guard them from evil, 

But my prayer would bound back to myself ; 
Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, 

But a sinner must pray for himself. 

— The Children. 

Oh, those truants from earth and from heaven, 
They have made me more manly and mild, 

And I know how Jesus could liken 
The kingdom of God to a child. 

— The Children. 

I think it must somewhere be written that 
the virtues of mothers shall, occasionally, be 
visited on the children, as well as the sins of 
fathers. 



28 



jFrom (gifteD gjginpg 

PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR. 

1 872- 1 906. 

American writer of African descent. Among 
his writings are "Lyrics of Lowly Life," 
"Lyrics of the Hearthstone," and "Folk from 
Dixie." 

" 'Good-by,' I said to my conscience — 

'Good-by for aye and aye/ 
And I put her hands off harshly, 

And I turned my face away; 
And conscience, smitten sorely, 

Returned not from that day. 
But a time came when my spirit 

Grew weary of its pace; 
And I cried, 'Come back, my conscience, 

I long to see thy face.' 
But conscience cried, 

'I cannot, remorse sits in my place/ " 

"Because I had loved so deeply, 

Because I had loved so long, 
God in his great compassion 

Gave me the gift of song; 
Because I had loved so vainly, 

And sung with such faltering breath, 
The Master in infinite mercy 

Offers the boon of death." 

— From the Independent. 
29 



Cfte (SolDen Creasutg 

JOHN DRYDEN. 

1631-1700. 

English poet and writer. The most popular 
writer of his time. He wrote "Absalom and 
Achitopel," "Alexander's Feast," "Ode for St. 
Cecilia's Day." 

Three poets,* in three distant ages born, 
*Homer, Virgil, and Milton. 
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. 
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, 
The next in majesty, in both the last. 
The force of Nature could no farther go ; 
To make a third, she joined the other two. 
— Verses upon Milton. 

Errors like straws upon the surface flow ; 
He who would search for pearls must dive 
below. — All for Love. 

A legend says that an angel, charmed by St. 
Cecilia's music, brought her each night a rose 
from heaven. — Golden Legends. 

But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher; 
When to her organ vocal breath was given 
An angel heard and straight appeared, 
Mistaking earth for heaven. 

— Ode for St. Cecilia's Day. 
30 



JFrom (gHfteD gginDS 

At last divine Cecilia came, 

Inventress of the vocal frame; 
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 

Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 

And added length to solemn sounds 
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown 

before. 
Let old Timotheus yield the prize, 

Or both divide the crown : 
He raised a mortal to the skies; 

She drew an angel down. 

— Alexander's Feast. 



GEORGE ELIOT. 
1819-1880. 



English writer, called the Novelist of the 
Soul. Her books are remarkable as studies of 
human character. "Adam Bede," "Romola," 
"Silas Marner," and "Middlemarch." 

The only failure a man ought to fear is fail- 
ure in cleaving to the purpose he sees to be 
best. — Felix Holt. 

Yes! thank God; human feeling is like the 
mighty rivers that bless the earth; it does not 
wait for beauty — it flows with resistless force 
and brings beauty with it. — Truthfulness. 
31 



Cfle (goIBen Creagurp 

What do we live for, if it is not to make 
life less difficult for others? 

The strongest principle of growth lies in hu- 
man choice. 

However strong a man's resolutions may be, 
it costs him something to carry it out, now and 
then. We may determine not to gather any 
cherries, and keep our hands sturdily in our 
pockets, but we can't prevent our mouths from 
watering. — Adam Bede. 

Affection is the broadest basis of good in 
life. 

Failure after long perseverance is much 
grander than never to have a striving good 
enough to be called a failure. 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 

1 803- 1 882. 

Famous American writer and lecturer. He 
was often called a Seer. "The Conduct 
of Life," "Representative Men," "English 
Traits," and "Concord Hymn" are among his 
best works. 

32 



if torn aifteD g0mD0 

The pleasure of life is according to the man 
that lives it, and not according to the work or 
the place. — Conduct of Life. 

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 
When Duty whispers low, Thou must, 

The youth replies, I can ! 

— Voluntaries. 

The measure of a master is his success in 
bringing all men round to his opinion twenty 
years later. — Conduct of Life: Cidture. 

A day of toil, an hour for sport, 
But for a friend a life's too short. 

— Friendship. 

One of the illusions is that the present hour 
is not the critical, decisive hour. Write it on 
your heart that every day is the best day in 
the year. 

We arrive at virtue by taking its direction, 
instead of imposing ours. 

— Perpetual Forces. 

To be great is to be misunderstood. 

— Essays: Self -Reliance. 
33 " 



Cfte (Somen Cteasutg 

Beauty is the mark God sets on virtue. 
Every natural action is graceful. Every heroic 
action is also decent, and causes the place and 
the bystanders to shine. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

1 706- 1 790. 

Famous American writer. Among his writ- 
ings are "Autobiography" and "Poor Richard's 
Almanac." 

In 1732, I first published my Almanac, it 
was continued by me about twenty-five years, 
and commonly called Poor Richards Almanac, 
I filled all the little s spaces, that occured be- 
tween the remarkable days in the calander, 
with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as in- 
culcated industry and frugality as the means 
of procuring wealth. These proverbs, which 
contained the wisdom of many ages, and na- 
tions, I assembled and formed into a connected 
discourse prefixed to the Almanac of 1757, as 
the harangue of a wise old man to the people 
attending an auction. The piece was copied 
in all newspapers of the American Continent, 
reprinted in Britain on a large sheet of paper, 
to be stuck up in houses. Two translations 
were made of it in France. 

— Auto biography. 
34 



Jftom (SifteP ggin&s 

A man is often more generous when he has 
but little money than when he has plenty, per- 
haps through fear of being thought to have 
but little. — Autobiography. 

Experience keeps a dear school, but fools 
will learn in no other. 

— Poor Richard's Almanac. 

Work as if you were to live one hundred years, 
Pray as if you were to die to-morrow. 

There never was a good war, or a bad 
peace. 

— Letters. 

They that cannot be counseled cannot be 
helped. — Poor Richard's Almanac. 

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander 
time, for that is the stuff life is made of. 

— Poor Richard's Almanac. 



GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON. 

1 788- 1 824. 

An English poet. His early poems possessed 
little merit. His first work of importance was 
"Childe Harold"; following that was a series 

35 



Cfte (SolOen Cteasutp 

of Oriental stories. Among his short poems 
are "The Prisoner of Chillon." "The Dream," 
and "Darkness." 

Who would be free, themselves must strike 
the blow. — Childe Harold. 

The drying up a single tear has more of 
honest fame than shedding seas of gore. 

Here's a sigh to those who love me, 
And a smile to those who hate ; 

And whatever sky's above me, 
Here's a heart for every fate. 

— To Thomas Moore. 

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, 
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as 

free, 
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 
Survey our empire and behold our home! 
These are our realms, no limit to their sway — 
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. 

— The Corsair. 

The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
But tell of days in goodness spent, 

A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose love is innocent! 

— She Walks in Beauty. 

36 



jTrom aifteD QgtnDg 

THOMAS GRAY. 

1716-1771. 

English poet. His "Elergy" is widely 
known and loved. "The Bard," "Eton Col- 
lege," "Ode on Spring," and "On a Favorite 
Cat." 

Do you not think the mind has more room 
in it than most people seem to think, if you will 
but furnish the apartments ? — Letters. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark, un fathomed caves of ocean bear; 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
— Elergy in a Country Churchyard. 

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 

The short and simple annals of the poor. 

— Elergy in a Country Churchyard. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
Heaven did a recompense as largely send: 

Me gave to Misery all he had, a tear, 

He gained from Heaven — 'twas all he 
wished — a friend. — The Epitaph. 

To be employed is to be happy. 
37 



Cfte (goIDett Cteasutg 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

1728-1774. 

Irish poet and novelist. "Vicar of Wake- 
field," "She Stoops to Conquer," "The Trav- 
eler," and "The Deserted Village" are among 
his productions. 

Our greatest glory consists not in never 
falling, but in rising every time we fall. 

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates and men decay; 
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade — 
A breath can make them, as a breath has 

made; 
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 
When once destroyed can never be supplied. 
— The Deserted Village. 

The first time I read an excellent book, it 
is to me just as if I had gained a new friend; 
when I read over a book I have perused be- 
fore, it resembles the meeting with an old one. 

— Essays. 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
When every rood of ground maintained its 
man; 

38 



Jftom (gtfteP QgHnPg 

For him light labor spread her wholesome 

store, 
Just gave what life required, but gave no 

more: 
His best companions, innocence and health, 
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 

— The Deserted Village. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

1 804- 1 864. 

An American author who ranks among the 
best of American writers. "The Scarlet Let- 
ter," 'The Marble Faun," and "The House of 
Seven Gables" are among his best romances. 
Among his short stories are "The Snow Im- 
age," "The Great Stone Face," and Ethan 
Brand." 

Every individual has a place to fill in the 
world, and is important in some respect, 
whether he chooses so or not. 

The act of the passing generation is the 
germ which may and must produce good or 
evil fruit in a far-distant time. 

— The House of the Seven Gables. 
39 



Ctie (SoIDen Cteagutg 

No fountain is so small but that Heaven 
may be imaged in its bosom. 

— American Note Books. 

Next to the lightest heart, the heaviest is 
apt to be most playful. 

— The House of the Seven Gables. 

These railroads — could but the whistle be 
made musical, and the rumble and the jar 
got rid of — are positively the greatest blessing 
that the ages have wrought out for us. They 
give us wings; they annihilate the toil and 
dust of pilgrimage ; they spiritualize travel. 
— The House of the Seven Gables. 

Moonlight is sculpture ; sunlight is painting. 
— American Note Books. 



FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS. 

I793-I835- 

English poet. Among her best-known 
poems are "The Voice of Spring," "The 
Treasures of the Deep," "The Better Land," 
and "The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers." 
40 



Jftom (gifteD QginDg 

The same fond mother bent at night 
O'er each fair, sleeping brow; 

She had each folded flower in sight — ■ 
Where are the dreamers now? 

— The Graves of a Household. 

But what awak'st thou in the heart, O 

Spring— 
The human heart, with all its dreams and 

sighs — 
That thou giv'st back so many a buried thing ; 
Restorer of forgotten harmonies ? 
Fresh songs and scents break forth where'er 

thou art — 
What wakest thou in the heart? 

Looks of familiar love that never more, 
Never on earth, our aching eyes shall greet, 
Past words of welcome to our household door, 
And vanished smiles and sounds of parted 

feet; 
Spring, 'mid the mourners of thy flowering 

trees, 

Why, why reviv'st thou these? 

— The Voice of Spring. 

Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ; 
Ear hath not heard its deep sounds of joy; 
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair — 
Sorrow and death may not enter there; 

4 1 



Cfte (goIDen Ctea0utg 

Time does not breathe on its fadeless bloom; 
Far beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, 
It is there, it is there, my child. 

— The Better Land. 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast ; 

And the woods, against a stormy sky, 
Their giant branches tossed. 

— The Pilgrim Fathers. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

1 809- 1 894. 

American author and poet. Among his 
works are "The Poet of the Breakfast Table," 
"The Autocrat," and "The Professor at the 
Breakfast Table." 

Has there any old fellow got mixed with the 

boys? 
If there has, take him out without making a 

noise ! 
Hang the Almanack cheat and the Cata- 
logue's spite! 
Old Time is a liar ! We're twenty to-night. 

— The Boys. 
42 



Jfrom (gifteD QgittDS 

Sin has many tools, but a lie is a handle that 
fits them all. 

— Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. 

The noblest service comes from nameless 
hands, and the best servant does his work un- 
seen. 

The very flowers that bend and meet, 
In sweetening others, grow more sweet. 

Be firm ! one constant element in luck 
Is genuine, solid old Teutonic pluck. 

I find the great thing in this world is not so 
much where we stand as in what direction we 
are moving; to reach the port of heaven we 
must sail, sometimes with the wind and some- 
times against it — but we must sail, and not 
drift, nor lie in anchor. 

In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, 
So far as I know, but a tree and truth. 

— The Deacon's Masterpiece. 



HELEN HUNT JACKSON. 

1831-1885. 

American poet and prose writer. Her ju- 
venile books are "Cat Stories," "Mercy Phil- 
brick's Choice," "Hetty's Strange History.' 
43 



Cfre (goIOett Creagutg 

She received an appointment from the govern- 
ment to report on the condition of the Cali- 
fornia Mission Indians. This resulted in her 
most popular story, "Ramona." She also 
wrote "A Century of Dishonor," "Bits of 
Talk," "Bits of Travel," and "Sonnets and 
Lyrics." She bore the pen name of H. H. 
She is buried at Colorado Springs, Colorado. 

By all these lovely tokens, 

September days are here, 
With summer's best of weather, 

And autumn's best of cheer. 

— September. 

When comrades seek sweet country haunts, 

By twos and threes together, 
And count like misers, hour by hour, 

October's bright blue weather. 
O suns, and skies, and flowers of June, 

Count all your boasts together, 
Love loveth best of all the year 

October's bright blue weather. 

— October's Bright Blue Weather. 

Only a night from old to new, 

Never a night such changes brought. 
The old year had its work to do : 
No New Year miracles are wrought. 
But all lost things are in the angel's keeping, 
Love ; 

44 



jfrom (gifteB Sginttg 

No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, 

Love; 
The years of heaven will all earth's little pain 

make good. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

1 807- 1 882. 

Famous American poet. Among his lyrical 
poems are "The Reaper," "Psalm of Life," 
"The Children's Hour," and "The Rainy 
Day." Among his narrative poems and bal- 
lads are "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "Paul 
Revere's Ride," and "King Robert of Sicily." 
His longer poems are "Evangeline," "The 
Song of Hiawatha," and "The Courtship of 
Miles Standish." 

I most eagerly aspire after future eminence 
in literature; my whole soul burns most ar- 
dently for it, and my earthly thought centers 
in it. 

— Extract from a Letter to His Father. 

There will be other towers for thee to build; 
There will be other steeds for thee to ride; 

45 



Cfte (goioen Cteagtttg 

There will be other legends, and all filled 
With greater marvels and more glorified. 

— Castle-builders, 

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all. 
Into each life some rain must fall, 
Some days must be dark and dreary. 

— The Rainy Day. 

The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sudden flight, 

But they while their companions slept 
Were toiling upwards in the night. 

— The Ladder of St. Augustine. 

Not in the clamour of the crowded street, 
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the 
throng, 
But in ourselves are triumph and defeat. 

— The Poets. 

Upward steals the life of man as the sun- 
shine from the wall; 

From the wall into the sky, from the roof 
along the spire — 

Ah, the souls of those that die are but sun- 
beams lifted higher. 

— The Golden Legend. 

4 6 



I 



jftom (gifteD gginPg 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

1819-1891. 

American poet and critic. Poems: "The 
Present Crisis/' "The Vision of Sir Launfal," 
"The First Snowfall," "In the Twilight," and 
"To the Dandelion." Prose: "My Study 
Window," "Shakespeare Once More," and 
"Among My Books." 

No man is born into the world whose work 
Is not born with him. There is always work, 
And tools to work withal, for those who 

will; 
And blessed are the horny hands of toil. 

— A Glance Behind the Curtain. 

Be noble ! and the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping but never dead, 
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 

— Sonnets. 

And what is so rare as a day in June? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days; 
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear lays; 
Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; 
Every clod feels a stir of might, 
47 



Cfte (SoIDen Cteagutg 

An instinct within it that reaches and 
towers, 
And, groping blindly above it for light, 
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 
***** 

And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean 
To be some happy creature's palace. 

— The Vision of Sir Launfal. 

Talent is that which is a man's power; 
genius is that in whose power a man is. 

— Literary Essays. 

Not failure, but low aim is crime. 

— For an Autograph. 



JOHN MILTON. 
1 608- 1 676. 



Famous English writer. "Paradise Lost," 
"Paradise Regained," and "Samson Ago- 
nistes." Minor poems are "Lycidas," "Ar- 
cades," "Comus," and "On the Nativity." 

But peaceful was the night 
Wherein the Prince of Light 
His reign of peace upon the earth began. 

48 



jftom (gifteD QginDg 

The winds, with wonder wist, 

Smoothly the waters kissed, 
Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, 

Who now hath quite forgot to rave, 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the 
charmed wave. — On the Nativity. 

The mind is its own palace, and in itself 
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. 

— Paradise Lost. 

God doth not need 
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best 
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His 

state 
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 
They also serve who only stand and wait. 
— Sonnets: On His Blindness. 

Books are not absolutely dead things, but 
do contain a potency of life in them to be as 
active as that soul was whose progeny they 
are. — Areopagitica. 

Mortals, that would follow me, 
Love Virtue; she alone is free. 

— Comus. 



49 



EDGAR ALLAN POE. 

1 809- 1 849. 

American poet and prose writer. Prose 
tales: "The Fall of the House of Usher," 
"The Gold Bug," "The Telltale Heart," 
"The Pit and Pendulum," and "The Masque 
of the Red Death." Poems: "To Helen," 
"The Raven," "The Bells," "Lenore," "The 
City in the Sea," "Annabel Lee," "Israfel," 
and "The Sleeper." 

Because I feel that, in the Heaven above, 

The angels, whispering to one another, 
Can find, among their burning terms of love, 

None so devotional as that of "Mother." 
Therefore by that dear name I long have 
called you — 

You who are more than mother unto me, 
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death in- 
stalled you, 

In setting my Virginia's spirit free. 
My mother — my own mother, who died early, 

Was but the mother of myself; but you 
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, 

And thus are dearer than the mother I 
knew 
By that infinity with which my wife 

Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life. 

— Addressed to the Poet's Mother-in-law. 
— To My Mother. 

SO 



JFtom (SifteD gjginPg 

A judge at common law may be an ordi- 
nary man; a good judge of a carpet must be 
a genius. Every one knows that a large 
floor may have a covering of large figures, 
and that a small one must have a covering of 
small — yet this is not all the knowledge in 
the world. 

— Philosophy of Furniture. — Essays. 

Thou wouldst be loved? — then let thy heart 

From its present pathway part not; 
Being everything which now thou art, 

Be nothing which thou art not. 
So with the world thy gentle ways, 

Thy grace, thy more than beauty, 
Shall be an endless theme of praise, 

And love a simple duty. 

— To Frances S. Osgood. — Album. 



ALEXANDER POPE. 

1 688- 1 744. 

An English writer. "Ode on St. Cecilia's 
Day/' "Rape of the Lock," "Essay on Man," 
"The Universal Prayer," and "Essay on Criti- 
cism" are among his productions. 

5i 



Cfte (goIDen Cteasutg 

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, 
For there's happiness as well as care. 

Music resembles poetry: in each 

Are nameless graces which no methods teach, 

And which a master-hand alone can teach. 



Words are like leaves; and, where they most 

abound, 
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found: 

jjc sfi ^c sfc JJC 

Some judge of authors' names, not works, 

and then 
Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the 

men. 

;j« s(c s|e ;Jc ijc 

Good nature and good sense must ever join; 
To err is human, to forgive, divine. 

— Essay on Criticism. 

'Tis education forms the common mind; 
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined. 

— Moral Essay. 

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of 

Fate, 
All but the page prescribed, the present state. 

— Essay on Man. 
52 



Jfrom (gifteD g^inpg 

He, who through vast immensity can pierce, 
See worlds on worlds compose one universe, 
Observe how system into system runs, 
What other planets circle other suns, 
What varied being peoples every star, 
May tell why heaven has made us what we 
are. — Essay on Man. 

Tis with our judgments as our watches, none 
Go just alike, yet each believes his own. 

— Essay on Criticism. 



JOHN RUSKIN. 
1819-1900. 



A noted English writer and artist. Among 
his productions are "Crown of Wild Olive," 
"Sesame and Lilies," "Modern Painters," 
"Stones of Venice," and "The Queen of the 
Air." 

Life being very short and the quiet hours 
of it few, we ought to waste none of them 
reading valueless books. 

— Sesame and Lilies. 

Every right action and true thought sets 
the seal of its beauty on person and face. 

— Munera Pulveris. 
53 



Cfte (golDen Cteasutg 

Whoever you are, be noble; 

Whatever you do, do well; 
Whatever you speak, speak kindly, 

Give joy wherever you dwell. 

You cannot serve two masters ; you must 
serve one or the other. If your work is first 
with you, and your fee second, work is your 
master, and the lord of work, who is God. 
— The Crown of Wild Olive.-^-Work. 

What we like determines what we are, and is 
the sign of what we are; and to teach taste 
is inevitably to form character. 

— The Crown of Wild Olive. — Traffic. 

All books are divisible into two classes : the 
books of the hour, and the books of all time. 

— Good Books. 

Awake! awake! the stars are pale, the east is 

russet gray : 
They fade, behold the phantoms fade, that 

kept the gates of day; 
Throw wide the burning valves, and let the 

golden streets be free, 
The morning watch is past — the watch of 

evening shall not be. 

— The Dawn of Peace. 
54 



Jfrom (gifteD gjginpg 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 

1 564-1616. 

English dramatic poet. He has been called 
the greatest of all human mysteries. His 
comedies are "Merchant of Venice," "Tem- 
pest," "As You Like It," and "Midsummer 
Night's Dream." His tragedies: "King Lear," 
"Macbeth," "Othello," "Hamlet," "Romeo 
and Juliet." Historical plays are: "Henry 
V.," "Henry VI," "Richard II.," Parts I. and 
II. 

The evil that men do lives after them. 
The good is oft interred with their bones. 

— Julius Ccesar. 

The quality of mercy is not strained, 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blest — 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 
— Merchant of Venice. 

How poor are they that have not patience ! 

—Othello. 

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose 
The good we oft might win, by fearing to 
attempt. — Measure for Measure. 

55 



C6e (SoIOen Cteagutg 

Ho wfar that little candle throws his beams I 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
— Merchant of Venice. 

Young men's love then lies 
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 
— Romeo and Juliet. 

Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign 
eye; 
Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
Gilding pale streams with heavenly al- 
chemy. — Sonnets. 

The fashion wears out more apparel than the 
man. — Much Ado About Nothing. 

For by his face straight shall ye know his 
heart. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

1771-1832. 

Scottish novelist and poet. He is called 
the Wizard of the North. Among his novels 
are "Ivanhoe," "Old Mortality," "Kenil- 
56 



jftom (gifteD g0mPg 

worth/' "Guy Mannering." Narrative poems : 
"The Lady of the Lake" and "Marmion." 
Shorter poems : "Nora's Vow," "Hunting 
Song," "County Guy," and "Maid of Neid- 
path," 

Oh, many a shaft at random sent 
Finds mark the archer little meant! 
And many a word at random spoken 
May soothe or wound a heart that's broken! 
— The Lady of the Lake. 

It is a secret sympathy, 

The silent link, the solemn tie, 

Which heart to heart and mind to mind 

In body and in soul can bind. 

Breathes there the man with soul so dead 

Who never to himself hath said 

This is my own, my native land ! 

— Marmion. 

When, musing on companions gone, 
We doubly feel ourselves alone, 
Something, my Friend, we yet may gain; 
There is a pleasure in this pain ; 
It soothes the love of lonely rest, 
Deep in each gentler heart impress'd. 
'Tis silent amid worldly toils, 
And stifled soon by mental broils ; 
But, in a bosom thus prepared, 

57 



Cfje (Somen Cteasutg 

Its still, small voice is often heard, 
Whispering a mingled sentiment, 
'Twixt resignation and content. 

— A Reverie. 

Oh, what a tangled web we weave 
When first we practice to deceive! 

— Marmion. 



MARGARET E. SANGSTER. 

1838- 

An American author and juvenile moralist. 
Among her writings are "Winsome Woman- 
hood," "Familiar Talks," "Our Own," "Op- 
portunity." 

If I had known, in the morning, 

How wearily all the day 
The words unkind would trouble my mind 

That I said when you went away, 
I had been more careful, darling, 

Nor given you needless pain ; 
But — we vex our own with look and tone 

We might never take back again. 

— Our Own. 

God gave me something very sweet 
To be mine own this day; 

58 



Jftom (SffteD QgHnDg 

A precious opportunity, 
A word for Christ to say. 

— Opportunity. 

By a beautiful road our Christmas comes, 

A road full twelve months long, 
And every mile is as warm as a smile, 

And every hour is a song. 
Flower and flake, and cloud and sun, 

And the winds that riot and sigh, 
Have their work to do ere the dreams come 
true 

And Christmas glows in the sky. 
To the beautiful home our Christmas comes, 

The home that is safe and sweet. 

'Tis a beautiful task our Christmas brings 

For old and young to share, 
With jingle of bells and silvery swells 

Of music in the air. 
To make the sad world merry awhile, 

And to frighten sin away, 
And to bless us all, whatever befall, 

Is the task of Christmas Day. 



ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. 

1 809- 1 892. 

An English poet. His narrative poems are 
Enoch Arden," "Lancelot and Elaine," 
59 



Cfre (golOen Cteagutp 

"Dora." Descriptive: "Lady of Shalott," 
"Sir Galahad," "Sir Lancelot and Queen 
Guinevere," and "The Day Dream." Re- 
flective : "Crossing the Bar," "The Poet," and 
"Merlin and the Gleam." 

How'er it be, it seems to me, 

'Tis only noble to be good. 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 

And simple faith than Norman blood. 
— Lady Clare Vere de Vere. 

I held it truth, with him who sings 
To one clear harp in divers tones, 
That men may rise on stepping-stones 

Of their dead selves to higher things. 

— In Memoriam. 

Self -reverence, self-knowledge, self-control — 
These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 

— CEnone. 

If thou shouldst never see my face again, 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought 

by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let 

thy voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
60 



jftom (gifteD QjmDg 

If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
Both for themselves and those who call them 

friend. 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
— Idylls of the King. 

Yet I doubt not through the ages 

One increasing purpose runs, 
And the thoughts of men are widened 

With the process of the suns. 

— Locksley Hall. 



WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 

1811-1862. 

English novelist and poet of keen analytic 
power. His best works are "Pendennis," 
"Henry Esmond," "The Newcomes," "The 
Virginians," and "Vanity Fair," a novel with- 
out a hero. 

"Christmas is here; 
Winds whistle shrill, 
Icy and chill. 
Little care we; 
Little we fear 
61 



Cfte (golDen Cteagutg 

Weather without, 

Shelter'd about 

The Mahogany Tree." 

"What is it to be a gentleman? It is to 
be honest, to be gentle, to be generous, to be 
brave, to be wise; and, possessing all these 
qualities, to exercise them in the most grace- 
ful outward manner." 

"Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun 

upon the hill, 
And the while he slew the foemen, bid the 

silver moon stand still? 
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were 

his sacred will." 

FINALE. 

"The play is done — the curtain drops > 

Slowly falling to the prompter's bell; 
A moment the actor stops 

And looks around to say farewell. 
On life's wide scene you, too, have parts, 

That fate ere long shall bid you play : — 
Good night! With honest, gentle hearts 

And kindly greeting, go alway." 

— Finale. 

"The rose upon my balcony, the morning air 
perfuming, 

62 



jFtom (gifteD gginPg 

Was leafless all the winter time and pining 
for the spring; 
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why 
her cheek is blooming; 

It is because the sun is out and birds be- 
gin to sing. 

"The nightingale, whose melody is through 
the green wood ringing, 
Was silent when the boughs were bare and 
winds were blowing keen. 
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of 
his singing, 
It is because the sun is out and all the 
leaves are green. 

"Thus each performs his part, Mamma; the 
birds have found their voices, 
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her 
bonny cheek to dye; 
And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, 
which wakens and rejoices, 
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and 
that's the reason why." 



ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. 

1855- 

American author and poet. Among her 
writings are "Drops of Water," "Poems of 

63 



C&e (golDen Cteagurp 

Passion," "Poems of Pleasure," "The Pride 
of Life," and "Answered Prayers." 

I prayed for riches, and achieved success — 
All that I touched turned into gold. Alas! 

My cares were greater, and my peace was less 
When that wish came to pass. 

***** 

I prayed for a contented mind. At length 

Great light upon my darkened spirit burst, 
Great peace fell on me, also, and great 
strength. 
Oh! had that prayer been first. 

— Answered Prayers. 

The fault of the age is a mad endeavor 

To leap to heights that were made to climb; 
By a burst of strength or a thought that is 
clever 

We plan to outwit and forestall Time. 
We scorn to wait for the thing worth having ; 

We want high noon at the day's dim dawn, 
We find no pleasure in toiling and saving 

As our forefathers did in the good times 
gone. 
We force our roses before their season 

To bloom and blossom that we may wear; 
And then we wonder and ask the reason 

Why perfect buds are so few and rare. 
— The Fault of the Age. 

6 4 



Jfrom (gifteD SlginDg 

Should our desires, voiced one by one in 
prayer, ascend to God and come back as 
events shaped to our wish, what chaos there 
would result! 

I read the sentence or heard it spoken — 

A stalwart phrase and with meaning rife — 
And I said: Now I know, by youth's sweet 
token, 
That this is the time called the — Prime of 
Life. 

Now when on the ear of my listening spirit, 
That is turned away from the earth's harsh 
strife, 
The river of death sounds murmuring near 
it— 
I know that this is the — Prime of Life. 
— The Prime of Life. 



JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 

1 807- 1 892. 

One of the best-loved American poets. 
"Barbara Frietchie," "The Barefoot Boy," 
"Maud Muller," "Snow-Bound," "The An- 
gels of Buena Vista," and "Legends of New 
England." 

65 



C&e (goinen Cteagurg 

Unskilled the subtle lines to trace, 
Or softer shades, of Nature's face, 
I view her common forms with unanointed 
eyes. — Proem. 

Ah, well ! for us all some sweet hope lies 
Deeply buried from human eyes; 
And in the hereafter, angels may 
Roll the great stone from its grave away. 

— Maud Muller. 

The great eventful Present hides the Past; 

But through the din 
Of its loud life hints and echoes from 

The life behind steal in; 
And the lore of home and fireside, 

And the legendary rhyme, 
Make the task of duty lighter, which the 

True man owes his time. 

— Garrison of Cape Ann. 

We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on; 

We murmur, but the corn-ears fill ; 
We choose the shadow, but the sun 

That casts it shines behind us still. 

— An Autumn Festival. 

O Freedom! if to me belong 

Nor mighty Milton's gift divine, 

Nor Marvell's wit and graceful song, 

66 



jftom (gnfteti gjgin&g 

Still with a love as deep and strong 
As theirs, I lay, like them, my best 
Gifts on thy shrine! — Proem. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

1770-1850. 

English writer and poet. Was made Poet 
Laureate in 1843. "Ode on Immortality," 
"Tintern Abbey," "Milton, Thou Shouldst Be 
Living," "Daffodils," "We Are Seven" are 
among his best known poems. 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and 
steam, 
The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 
Apparelled in celestial light, 
The glory and the freshness of a dream. 
It is not now as it hath been of yore; 
Turn wheresoe'er I may, 
By night or day, 
The things which I have seen I now can see no 
more. — Intimations of Immortality. 

That best portion of a good man's life — 
His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
Of kindness and of love. 

— Personal Talk. 

67 



Cfte aoIDett Creagurg 

To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 
— Ode on Immortality. 

The primal duties shine aloft like stars; 
The charities that soothe and heal and bless 
Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers. 

— The Excursion. 

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays 
And confident to-morrows. 

— The Excursion. 

The thought of our past years in me doth 

breed 
Perpetual benediction. 

— Intimations of Immortality. 



WALT WHITMAN. 
1819-1892. 



An American poet, often called the Good 
Gray Poet. "Song of the Broadaxe," "Cap- 
tain, My Captain," "When Lilacs Last in 
the Dooryard Bloom'd" are among his poems. 

That shadow, my likeness, that goes to and 

fro 
Seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering, 
68 



jfrom (gifteD QginQg 

How often I find myself standing, and look- 
ing 
At it where it flits, 

How often I question and doubt whether 
That is really me. 

— That Shadow My Likeness. 

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, 
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the 
laws divine, 

The Modern Man I sing. 
All that the past was not, the future will be. 

Ah, little recks the laborer 
How near his work is holding him to God. 
— Song of the Exposition. 

Here, Captain! dear father! 

This arm beneath your head ! 
It is some dream that on the deck 

You've fallen cold and dead. 

— Captain, My Captain. 

A noiseless, patient spider, 

I marked where, on a little promontory, 

It stood isolated; marked how, to explore the 

vacant, 
Vast surrounding, it launched forth filament, 
Filament, filament out of itself; 
Ever unreaching them — 
Ever tirelessly speeding them. 

6 9 



Cfte (goIDen Cteagutg 

THOUGHTS ON WOMAN. 

I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, 
And pity lovers rather more than seamen. 
— Lord Byron — "Don Juan." 

O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee 
To temper man: we had been brutes without 

you. 
Angels are painted fair, to look like you : 
There's in you all that we believe of heaven, 
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, 
Eternal joy, and everlasting love. 

— Thomas Otway — "Woman." 

The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place, 
Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 
And beauty born of murmuring sound 

Shall pass into her face. 

— Wordsworth — "Source of Beauty." 

To be a good woman is better than to be a 
fine lady. — /. W. Westlake. 

We may live without poetry, music, and art; 
We may live without conscience, and live 

without heart; 
We may live without friends, we may live 

without books, 
But civilized men cannot live without cooks. 
— (Owen Meredith) Baron Lytton. 

70 



jftom (gifteD £0in&g 

Many a woman who would be ready to die 
for her husband makes him wretched because 
she won't live for him. 

— William Dean Howells — "A Modem In- 
stance." 

The character of no man is fixed until it 
has been tried by that of the woman he loves. 
— W. D. Howells — "A Woman's Reason!' 

I would have a woman as true as death. 
At the first real lie which works from the 
heart outward, she should be tenderly chloro- 
formed into a better world, where she can 
have an angel for a governess. 

— 0. W. Holmes — "Autocrat of the Break- 
fast Table." 

To say why gals acts so or so, 
Or don't 'ould be presumin' ; 

Mebby to mean yes an' say no 
Comes nateral to woman. 
— /. R. Lowell — "The C our tin'." 

When she had passed it seemed like the ceas- 
ing of exquisite music. 
— H. W. Longfellow — "Evangeline." 

Young men's love then lies 
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 
— Shakespeare — "Romeo and Juliet. 
7i 



>» 



C6e (golOen Creagutg 

To see her is to love her, 

And love but her forever; 
For nature made her what she is, 

And ne'er made sic another. 
— Robert Burns — "Bonnie Lesley." 

A creature not too bright or good 
For human nature's daily food; 
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 
— William Wordsworth — "She Was a Phan- 
tom of Delight/' 

If to her share some female errors fall, 
Look on her face, and you'll forget them all. 
— Alexander Pope — "The Rape of the 
Lock." 

The truth of it is, a woman seldom asks 
advice before she has bought her wedding 
gown. — Joseph Addison — "Spectator." 

The reason why so few marriages are 
happy is because young ladies spend their 
time in making nets, not in making cages. 
— Jonathan Swift — "Thoughts." 

The course of true love never did run smooth. 
— Shakespeare — "Midsummer Night's 
Dream. 

72 



Jftom (SHfteD gjginDg 

Why did she love him? Curious fool — be 

still- 
Is human love the growth of human will? 

— Byron — "Lara." 

She never married. 
Suitors came and went; 

The dark eyes flashed their love on one alone. 
Her life was passed in quiet and content, 
The old love reigned. No rival shared the 
throne. — Barlow — "The Old Maid" 

Her very frowns are fairer far 
Than smiles of other maidens are. 

— Coleridge — "She Is Not Fair" 

It was a beauty that I saw — 
So pure, so perfect, as the frame 
Of all the universe were lame 
To that one figure, could I draw, 
Or give least line of it a law ; 
A skein of silk without a knot, 
A fair march made without a halt, 
A curious form without a fault, 
A printed book without a blot, 
All beauty — and without a spot. 

— Johnson — "A Vision of Beauty" 
Woman's errors spring, for the most part, 
from a belief in goodness and a confidence in 
truth. ^Balzac. 

721 



Cfte (goIDen Cteagutg 

Adam was hungering for a sight of Dinah : 
and when that sort of hunger reaches a cer- 
tain stage, a lover is likely to still it, though 
he may have to put his future in pawn. 

— George Eliot — "Adam Bede" 

Clad all in white, upon a violet bank 
I saw thee half -reclining; while the moon 
Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses, 
And on thine own, upturn'd — alas in sorrow! 
— Edgar Allan Poe — "To Helen/' 

She had a heart — how shall I say ? — too easily 

made glad, 
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er 
She looked on, and her looks went every- 
where. 
— Robert Browning — "My Last Duchess/' 

Indeed, I know of no more subtle master 
Under heaven, than is the maiden passion 
For a maid, not only to keep down the base 
In man, but teach high thought and 
Amiable words, and courtliness and the 
Desire of fame, and love of truth, 
And all that makes a man. 

— Tennyson — "Idyls of the King/' 

God fashioned man from out the common 

earth, 
But not from earth woman: so does she, 
74 



ft torn &i(ttt} ffiinDs 

Even when fallen, ever bear with her 
Some sign of Heaven, some mystic, starry 
light. — T. B. Aldricfa— "Judith" 

The proper study of mankind is man 
The most perplexing one, no doubt, is woman. 

— Saxe. 

A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command. 

— Thomas De Quincy. 

I pray the prayer of Plato old : 
God make thee beautiful within, 

And let thine eyes the good behold 
In everything save sin. 

— Whittier. 

I fill this cup to one made up 

Of loveliness alone, 
A woman, of her gentle sex 

The seeming paragon; 
To whom the better elements 

And kindly stars have given 
A form so fair that, like the air, 

'Tis less of earth than heaven. 
— E. C. Pinckney— C A Health." 

Then gently scan your brother, man, 

Still gentler sister, woman; 
Though they may gang a kennin wrang, 

To step aside, is human. — Bums. 

75 



Cfre (golDett Cteagutg 

What does it cost, this garniture of death? 

It costs the life which God alone can give; 

It costs dull silence where was music's breath, 

It costs dead joy, that foolish pride may 

live. 

Ah, life, and joy, and song, depend upon it, 

Are costly trimmings for a woman's bonnet. 

— May Riley Smith. 

I cannot love the man who doth not love, 
As men love light, the song of happy birds. 

What is civilization? 
I answer, the power of a good woman. 

— Emerson. 



TRUTH. 

The ill-timed truth we might have kept-*— 
Who knows how sharp it pierced and 
stung ? 
The word we had not sense to say — 
Who knows how grandly it had rung? 
— Edzvard Rowland Sill. 

Beauty is truth; truth, beauty — that is all 
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. 

— John Keats. 
7 6 



ifrom (Sifteo fljinDg 

Truth is the foundation of all knowledge 
and the cement of all societies. 

— Dry den. 

Truth is the highest thing that man may 
kepe. — Chaucer. 

It is only when the people speak truth and 
justice that their voice can be called "the 
voice of God/' — /. A. Garfield. 

There is nothing so powerful as truth, and 
often nothing so strange. 

— Daniel Webster. 

Lay down this as a principle — that Truth 
is to the other virtues what vital air is to the 
human system. — John Randolph. 

There is but one straight course; and that 
is to seek truth, and pursue it steadily. 

— George Washington. 

But not in arms be our defense ; 
Give us the strength of innocence, 
The will to work, the heart to dare, 
For Truth's great battle everywhere. 

— hdia Ward Howe. 

77 



Cfte (frolften Creasing 

BEAUTY. 

Beauty enchants and grace captivates for a 
season, but a well-informed mind and a cul- 
tured heart will make a home beautiful when 
the bloom of beauty has faded and gone. 

—T. W. Handford. 

The best part cf beauty is that which a 
picture cannot express. — Bacon. 

Beauty is the mark God sets on virtue. 

— Emerson. 

Rugged strength and radiant beauty, 
All combined in nature's plan; 

Humble toil and heavenly duty — 
May ever form the perfect man. 

— Mrs. Hale. 

A thing of beauty is a joy forever; 
Its loveliness increases: it will never 
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams and health, and quiet 
breathing. — Keats — "Endymion." 

We tread through fields of speckled flowers, 

As if we did not know 
Our Father made them beautiful 

Because he loves us so. 

— Alice Cary. 

78 



Jftom (Siften gginPg 

Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
Like seasoned timber, never gives ; 

But when the whole world turns to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. — George Herbert. 



HAPPINESS. 



Every effort we make for the happiness 
of others lifts us above ourselves. 

— Mrs. Lydia Maria Childs. 

Good actions are the invisible hinges of the 
doors of heaven. — Victor Hugo. 

How far that little candle throws its beam! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

— Shakespeare. 

We often do more good by our sympathy 
than by our labors. — Canon Farrar. 

'Tis the mind that makes the body rich; 
And as the sun breaks through the darkest 

clouds, 
So honor peereth in the meanest habit. 

— Shakespeare. 

Keep a smile on your lips; it is better 

To joyfully, hopefully try 
For the end you would gain than to fetter 
Your life with a moan and a sigh. 

— Nixon Waterman. 
79 



Cfre <g>olPen Creagutg 

Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom; 

Plant hate, and hate will grow; 
You can sow to-day — to-morrow will bring 
The blossom that proves what sort of thing 

Is the seed — the seed you sow. 

— Sarah K. Bolton. 



EDUCATION. 



We have two educations — one from teach- 
ers, and the other we give ourselves. 

— Wendell Philips. 

We have two educations ; one we have given 
us, the other we give ourselves. 

— John Randolph. 

A complete and thorough education is that 
which fits a man for the performance of all 
public and private duties in peace and in war. 

— Milton. 

The destiny of nations lies far more in the 
hands of mothers than with the possessors of 
power. — Frederic F rob el. 

In all ages, life has been a university, and 
events have been teachers. — N. D. HUlis. 
80 



JFtom (SifteD QginDg 

Education is only early systematic practice 
and study under guidance. To give a mental 
power is one of the main ends of the higher 
education. — C. W. Eliot. 

The best education in the world is that got 
by struggling to get a living. 

— Wendell Philips. 

Education is a life work, and not a matter 
to be crowded into a few early years. 

— A. Tour gee. 

We live in the past by a knowledge of its 
history, and in the future by hope and antici- 
pation. — Daniel Webster. 

The real test of a man is not what he 
knows, but what he is in himself and in his 
relation to others. — Tennyson. 

We stand for an education that is of the 
deed, and not of the word. — Carlyle. 

I care not what your education is, elaborate 
or nothing; what your mental calibre is, great 
or small, that man who concentrates all his 
energies of body, mind, and soul in one di- 
rection is a tremendous man. 

— T. Dewitt Talmage. 
81 



Cite (goioen Cteagutg 

If I had power to give humor to the na- 
tions I would not give them drollery, for that 
is impractical; I would not give them wit, for 
that is aristocratic, and many minds cannot 
grasp it; but I would be contented to deal out 
Fun, which has no intellectual element, no 
subtlety, belongs to old and young, educated 
and uneducated alike. — Ian Maclaran. 

Angling may be said to be so like the 
mathematics that it can never be fully learnt. 

— Walton. 

It iz better not to kno so mutch than to 
kno so menny things that ain't so. 

— Billings. 

Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts. 

— Thoreau. 

Most people are like an egg, 
Too phull of themselves to hold enny thing 
else. ■■ — Billings. 



LOVE. 

For still in mutual sufferance lies 

The secret of true living; 
Love scarce is love that never knows 
The sweetness of forgiving. 

— Whittier — "Among the Hills. 1 
82 



JFtom (SifteD gginDg 

The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
But tell of days in goodness spent, 

A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose love is innocent. 

— Byron. 

I have heard of reasons manifold 

Why Love must needs be»blind, 
But this the best of all I hold — 

His eyes- are in his mind. 
What outward form and features- are 

He guesseth but in part; 
But what within is good and fair 

He seeth with the heart. 

— Coleridge. 

The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, 
Whose deeds, both great and small, 

Are close-knit strands of unbroken thread, 
Where love ennobles all. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

I saw in Mother's eyes the love she could not 
tell me — 

A love eternal as the skies whatever fate be- 
fell me. — Eugene Field. 

Love is not love that alters, 
When it alteration finds. 

— Shakespeare. 

83 



Cbt golDcn Crcasurp 

True love in this — differs from gold and 

clay — 
That to divide is not to take away. 

— P. B. SMI 

We are fallen but not forlorn. 
II something is left I rah. 

love was the earlie- 
So love is the 

— Lord Lytton. 

So long as we love, we serve : 
So long as we are loved by oth 
I would air we are in*': Me; 

: no man is useless while he has — a 
hmL — Stevenson. 

What we habitually love and live by will, 
in due season, bud, blossom, and bear fruit. 

— Bishop Spalding. 

One kindly deed may turn the fountain of thy 

To lo* • *ar, that shall o'er thee 

burn 

Long as its currents roll. 

— Holmes. 

Pr :" love like raindrops fall. 

Tea: ty are cooling d 



ftom giftrD aminos 

And dear to the heart of our Lord are all 
Who suffer like Him in the good thev do. 

—Keats. 

Affection is the broadest basis of good in 
life. — S::*g: E'Aci. 

Love is indestructible: 

Its holy flame forever burneth: 

From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. 



They sin who tell us love can die, 

— Soutky. 



OPPORTUNITY 



Who i:-:: and will not take, when once 'tis 
o-ered. shall ::e er zri i: ~:re 

—Shakespeare. 

The prert: ri is the living sum total c: i.'. 

the past. — S: 

st to knowing when to seize an oppor- 
tunity, the important thing is to know when 
to forego an advantage. — Z 



CSe (Soioen Creasurp 



Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part, 
Do thou but thine. — Milton. 

Life is too short to waste 
In critic peep or cynic bark, 

Quarrel or reprimand ; 
'Twill soon be dark; 

Up ! mind thine own aim, and 
God speed the mark. 

— Emerson. 

Miss not the occasion; by the forelock take 
that subtle power, the never-halting time. 

— Wordsworth. 

Let your first efforts be, not for wealth, 
but for independence. — Lytton. 

I hold that Christian grace abounds 
Where charity is seen; that when 

We climb to Heaven 'tis on the rounds 
Of love to men. — Alice Cary. 

Innumerable men and women had seen the 
kettle boil, but it occurred to only one that 
the force which lifted the lid might be con- 
fined and made to do human service. The 
man finds or makes his opportunities, and in 
turn they help to make him. 

— Bishop Spalding. 
86 



jftom 0t(teB QjinOS 

Every man is made to fit into some occupa- 
tion or profession, just as a tune is made to 
fit a meter. — Beecher. 

New occasions teach new duties: 
Time makes ancient good uncouth ; 

They must upward still, and onward, 
Who would keep abreast of Truth. 

— Lowell. 



DEATH. 

There is no death ! What seems so is transi- 
tion; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian 
Whose portal we call Death. 

— Longfellow — "Resignation" 

Who is most dead — a hero by whose monu- 
ment you stand, or his descendants of whom 
you have never heard ? — H. D. Thoreau. 

I cannot say, and I will not say 

That he is dead. He is just away. 

With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand, 

He has wandered into an unknown land, 

And left us dreaming how very fair 

It needs must be since he lingers there. 

— /. W. Riley. 
%7. 



Cfle (goIDen Cteagutg 

I long for household voices gone, 
For vanished smiles I long ; 
But God hath led my dear ones on, 
And He can do no wrong. 

— Whit tier. 

God's finger touched him, and he slept. 

— Tennyson. 

I would that thus, when I shall see 
The hour of death draw near to me, 
Hope, blossoming within my heart, 
May look to heaven as I depart. 

— Bryant. 

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning, 

When the soul waketh, and life's shadows 

flee; 

Oh ! in that hour fairer than daylight dawning, 

Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with 

Thee. — Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

There is no death : The stars go down to rise 

upon some fairer shore; 
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown 
They shine for ever more. 

— Lord Lytton. 

I have often thought upon death, and I find 
it the least of all evils. — Francis Bacon. 
88 



jfrom (gnfteD ggmDg 

Peace, peace! He is not dead, he doth not 

sleep ; 
He hath awakened from the dream of life. 

— Byron. 

The end of man is an Action, and not a 
Thought. — Carlyle. 



WORK. 

Plague ! ef they ain't sompin' in 
Work 'at kindo goes agin' 
My convictions ! 'Long about 
Here in June especially! 
Under some old apple tree, 
Jest a-restin' through and through, 
I could git along without 
Nothing else at all to do, 
Only jes' a-wishin' you 
Was a-gettin' there like me 
And June was eternity ! 
— James Whit comb Riley — "Knee-Deep in 
June." 

Diligence is the mother of good luck. 

— Franklin. 

Every man must think after his own fash- 
ion; for on his own path he finds a truth, or 
a kind of truth, which helps him through life. 

8 9 



CSe (goIDen Cteasutg 

But he must not give himself the rein; he 
must control himself; mere naked instinct 
does not become him. Unqualified activity, of 
whatever kind, leads at last to bankruptcy. 

— Goethe. 

The talent of success is nothing more than 
doing what you can do well, and doing well 
whatever you do, without a thought of fame. 

— Longfellow. 

Jest do your best, and praise er blame 
That f oilers that counts jest the same. 

—Riley— "My Philosofy" 

Cultivate your mind, if you happen to have 
one. — Samuel Johnson. 

Work as if you were to live one hundred 

years. 
Pray as if you were to die to-morrow. 

— Franklin. 

Life is greater than its works, and a man 
more important than his toil. 

— Hamilton W. Mabie. 

Work becomes art only when it is trans- 
formed into play. — Mabie. 
90 



jftom (SifteD gginDg 

Others shall sing the song", 
Others shall right the wrong, 
Finish what I begin, 
And all I fail to win. 
What matter, I or they? 
Mine or another's day, 
So the right word be said, 
And life the sweeter made. 

— Whit tier. 

We all unconsciously work over ideas gath- 
ered in reading and hearing, imagining they 
were original with ourselves. — Holmes. 

No race can prosper till it learns that there 
is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writ- 
ing a poem. — Booker T. Washington. 

Blessed is the man that hath found his 
work: let him ask no other blessing. 

— Carlyle. 

Have always some employment in your 
hands. — Kingsly. 



DREAMS. 

As I understand it, we are all dreamers. 
If we like a man's dream, we call him a 
prophet ; 

91 



Cfre ®oIDen Cteasutg 

If we don't like his dream, we call him a 
crank. — W. D. Howells. 

Teach self-denial and make its practice 
pleasurable, and you create for the world a 
destiny more sublime than ever issued from 
the brain of the wildest dreamer. — Scott. 

They say that gleams of a remoter world 
visit the soul in sleep. — Shelley. 

Toil! feel! think! hope! A man is sure to 
dream enough before he dies without making 
arrangements for the purpose. — Sterling. 

Though I am no poet, I have dreams some- 
times. — Ruskin. 

We are such stuff 

As dreams are made on: and our little life 

Is rounded with a sleep. — Shakespeare. 

Dreams come from Jove. — Homer. 

All that we see or seem 

Is but a dream within a dream. 

— Poe. 

In visions of the dark night 

I have dreamed of joy departed — 

But a waking dream of life and light 
Hath left me broken-hearted. — Poe. 
92 



jFrom (gffteD QginDg 

SORROW. 

Every one can master a grief but he that 
has it. 

— Shakespeare — "Much Ado About Noth- 
ing. 3 ' 

It is one of the precious mysteries of sor- 
row that it finds solace in unselfish thought. 

— /. A. Garfield. 

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not 

speak 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it 

break. — Shakespeare — "Macbeth." 

When afflictions make us wiser and better 
they answer their purpose; and they do so 
when they produce acquiescence and resigna- 
tion. — John Jay. 

Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, 

Complain not thou, O heart! 
For these bank in the current of the will, 

To uses, arts, and charities. 

— Sidney Lanier. 

And so beside the Silent Sea 

I wait the muffled oar; 
No harm from Him can come to me 
93 



Cfte (golDen Cteagutg 

On ocean or on shore. 
I know not where His islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air; 
I only know I cannot drift 

Beyond his love and care. 

— Whittier. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the fault I see; 
That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

—Pope. 

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, 
Death came with kindly care, 

The opening bud to Heaven conveyed, 
And bade it blossom there. 

— Coleridge. 



BOOKS. 

Books are the legacies that a great genius 
leaves to mankind. — Addison. 



Some books are to be tasted, others swal- 
lowed, and some few to be chewed and di- 
gested. — Francis Bacon. 
94 



jftom affteD gginpg 

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of 

Fate, 
All but the page prescribed, the present state. 

— Pope. 

Knowledge is of two kinds: we know a 
subject ourselves, or we know where we can 
find information upon it. 

— Samuel Johnson. 

Knowledge is proud that he has learned so 

much; 
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 
— William Cowper — "The Task." 

Books are needed, but yet not many books ; 
a few well read. An open, true, patient, and 
valiant soul is needed; that is the one thing 
needful. — Carlyle. 

A good book is the precious life-blood of a 

master spirit, 
Embalmed and treasured upon purpose, to a 

life beyond life. — Milton. 

So far from books doing away with the 
influence of the voice, they seem rather to 
increase it. In ages when there were no 
books, men sat silent in the cell or were 
dumb by the hearthstone. 

—N. D. Hillis. 
95 



Cfte (goioen Creagutg 

Books are the best of things, well used : 
Abused, among the worst. — Emerson. 

Often one lays down a book with the feel- 
ing that the author has "said nothing with 
elaboration," while in perusing another book 
one finds a whole sermon in a single sen- 
tence, or an unanswerable argument couched 
in a well-turned phrase. 

— William Jennings Bryan — Introduction, 
"The World's Famous Orations." 



POETRY. 

The great end 
Of poetry, that it should be a friend 
To soothe the cares and lift the thoughts of 
men. — Keats. 

We are all poets when we read a poem well. 

— Carlyle. 

Poetry is the record of the best and hap- 
piest moments of the happiest and best minds. 
— Percy Bysshe Shelley. 

I wish our clever young poets would re- 
member my homely definitions of prose and 
poetry, that is : prose, words in their best 
order; poetry, the best words in their best 
order. — Coleridge. 

96 



jFtom (gffteP flgmBg 

Angling is somewhat like poetry — men are 
to be born so. — Izaak Walton. 

The hidden treasure of poetry is the He- 
brew books. Few persons can remount to the 
source, to "Siloa's brook, that flowed by the 
oracle of God." There is no writer in any 
language, ancient or modern, more poetical 
than Habakkuk. — Daniel Webster. 

Poetry is rhythmical, imaginative language, 
expressing the invention, taste, thought, pas- 
sion, and insight of the human soul. 

— Edmund Clarence Stedman. 

And will any poet sing 
Of a lusher, richer thing 
Than a ripe May apple, rolled 
Like a pulpy lump of gold 
Under thumb and finger tips, 
And poured molten through the lips? 

— Riley, 



RELIGION. 



I would rather be defeated than make cap- 
ital out of my religion. — /. A. Garfield. 

97 



Clie (goloen Cteagutg 

Remember that no human work is done with- 
out preparation, 

God works out His sublimest purposes among 
men with preparation. 

— William H. Seward. 

Morality rests on Religion. 

— Benjamin Franklin. 

The Bible is a book of faith, and a book of 
doctrine, and a book of morals, and a book of 
religion, of especial revelation from God. 

— Daniel Webster. 

Prayers are not morality; nor kneeling, re- 
ligion. — John Randolph. 

Pray for clearness of intellectual vision to 
see the right path, for the courage to pursue 
it, and for fortitude and temperance to bear 
its fortunes, whether adverse or propitious. 

— /. Q. Adams. 

If there be good in that I wrought, 
Thy hand compelled it, Master, thine: 

Where I have failed to meet Thy thought, 

I know, through Thee, the blame is mine. 

— Rudyard Kipling. 

God helps them that help themselves. 

— Franklin. 

98 



Jftom (gifteP QginQg 

Religion is the best armor a man can have, 
but is the worst cloak. — John Bunyan. 

It is a comely fashion to be glad; joy is the 
grace we say to God. — Jean Ingelozv. 

'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 
'Tis only God may be had for the asking. 

— Lowell. 



WAR. 

There never was a good war or a bad 
peace. — Franklin. 

Ez fer war, I call it murder — 

There you have it, plain an' flat; 
I don't want to go no furder 

Than my Testyment fer that; 
God hez sed so, plump an' fairly, 

It's ez long ez it is broad, 
An' you've gut to git up airly 

If you want to take in God. 

— Lowell — "Biglow Papers." 

In battle or business, whatever the game, 

In law or in love it is ever the same, 

In the struggle for power or the scramble for 

pelf, 
Let this be your motto: Rely on yourself; 
99 



Cfre (golDen Creagurp 

And whether the prize be a ribbon or throne, 
The tactor is he who can go it alone. 

— /. G. Saxe. 

"Tis yet high day, thy staff resume, 

And fight fresh battles for the truth; 
For what is age but youth's full bloom, 
A riper, more transcendent youth? 
A weight of gold 
Is never old, 
Streams broader grow as downward rolled. 

— Holmes. 



PEACE. 

I feel within me a peace above all earthly 
dignities, a still and quiet conscience. 

— Shakespeare. 

A good conscience is a continual Christ- 
mas. — Franklin. 

Yet much remains to conquer still. Peace 
hath her victories no less renowned than war. 

— Milton. 

We do not admire the man of timid peace. 
We admire the man who embodies victorious 
ioo 



JFrom aifteD g©mD0 

effort; the man who never wrongs his neigh- 
bor ; who is prompt to help a friend ; but who 
has those virile qualities necessary to win in 
the stern strife of actual life. 

— Roosevelt. 



NATURE. 

Who does his duty is a question 
Too complex to be solved by me, 

But he, I venture the suggestion, 
Does part of his that plants a tree. 

— Lowell. 

For so work the honey-bees, 
Creatures that by rule in nature teach 
The art of order to a peopled kingdom. 
— Shakespeare — "King Henry V." 

The human species, according to the best 
theory I can form of it, is composed of two 
distinct races: the men who borrow and the 
men who lend. — Charles Lamb. 

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest 
bark 
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw 
near home; 

IOI 



Cfte (SolDen Crcagutg 

'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark 
Our coming, and look brighter when we 
come. — Byron. 

The maple crimsons to a coral reef ; 

Then safTern swarms swing off from all the 

willers, 
So plump they look like yaller caterpillars ; 
Then gray hossches'nuts leetle hands unfold 
Softer'n a baby's be at three days old. 
Thet's robin-redbreast's almanick; he knows 
Thet arter this ther's only blossom snows. 

— Lowell. 

I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have 
it all to myself, than to be crowded on a velvet 
cushion. — Henry D. Thoreau. 

Aloft on sky and mountain wall 
Are God's great pictures hung. 
Beauty seen is never lost, 
God's colors all are fast. 
The glory of this sunset heaven 
Into my soul has passed. 

— Whittier. 

In all places, then, and in all seasons, 

Flowers expand their light and soul-like 
wings, 
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
How akin they are to human things. 

— Longfellow. 
1 02 



jftom (SifteD QgmDg 

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the 

way, 
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, 
First pledge of blithesome May. 

— Lowell — "To the Dandelion! 3 

These winter nights against my window pane 
Nature with busy pencil draws designs 
Of ferns and blossoms, and fine spray of 

pines, 
Oak leaf and acorn and fantastic vines, 
Which she will make when summer comes 
again. — T. B. Aldrich. 

You think I'm dead, a soft voice said, 

Because not a branch or root. I own. 
I never had died, but close I hide 

In a plumy seed that the wind has sown, 
Patient I wait through the long winter hours ; 

You will see me again — I shall laugh at you 
then, 
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers. 

— Edith M. Thomas — "Talking in Their 
Sleep/' 

Biff! Bing! I'm on the wing: 

Hear me sing? And bite? 

Well, I guess you're right. 
But, say, I've got to live, some way, 
Haven't I? What? I have not. 
103 



Cfle (Soinen Cteasutg 

Oh, very well : proceed to kill : 
Your blood will have to pay the bill. 
And I'll get it. See? That's me! 
— W. J. Lamp ton — "The Yawp of the 
Mosquito." 

Robins and mocking-birds that all day long 
Athwart straight sunshine weave cross-threads 
of song. — Sydney Lanier. 

They say, 
The solid earth whereon we tread 
In tracts of fluent heat began, 
And grew to seeming random forms, 
The seeming prey of cyclic storms, 
Till at last arose the man. 

— Tennyson — "In Memorian." 

I guess the pussy-willows now 
Are creeling out on every bough 
Across the brook ; and robins look 
For early worms behind the plough. 
— Henry Van Dyke — "An Angler's Wish." 

And what's a butterfly ? At best 
He's but a caterpillar drest. 

— John Gay. 

Ah, March ! we know thou art 
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, 
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets. 

— H. H. Jackson. 
104 



JFtom (SiiteD ggmPg 

A bird came down the walk; 

He didn't know I saw; 
He bit an angleworm in halves 

And ate the fellow, raw. 
And then he drank a dew 

From a convenient grass, 
And then hopped sideways to the wall 

To let a beetle pass. 

— Emily Dickinson — "Poems." 

And there's never a leaf nor blade too mean 
To be some happy creature's palace. 

— Lowell. 

A lover's claim is mine on all 

I see, to have and hold, 
The rose light of perpetual hills, 

And sunsets never cold. 

— Whit tier. 

I feel at home with everything 
That has its dwelling in the wood; 

With flowers that laugh, and birds that sing; 
Companions beautiful and good, 

Brothers and sisters everywhere ; 

And over all, our Father's care. 

— Lucy Larcom — "Grace and Her Friends." 

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 

Singing at dawn on the alder bough; 
I brought him home, in his nest, at even; 
io5 



Cfte (goiaen Cteagutg 

He sings the song, but it cheers not now, 
For I did not bring home the river and sky — 
He sang to my ear — they sang to my eye. 
— Emerson — "Each and All" 

To-day I saw the dragon-fly 
Come from the wells where he did lie. 
An inner impulse rent the veil 
Of his old husk: from head to tail 
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. 
He dried his wings ; like gauze they grew ; 
Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew 
A living flash of light he flew. 

— Tennyson. 

The frugal snail, with forecast of repose, 
Carries his house with him where'er he goes. 

— Charles Lamb. 

The joy is great of him who strays 
In shady woods on summer days. 

— Maurice Thompson. 

How like are men and birds! 

— Whit tier. 

First come the Blackbirds clatt'rin' in tall 

trees, 
And settlin' things in windy congresses, 
Queer politicians though, for I'll be skinned 
If all on 'em don't head against the wind. 

— Lowell. 
1 06 



jftom (SifteO QgittPg 

Some birds are poets and sing all summer. 
They are the true singers. Any man can 
write verses in the love season. We are most 
interested in those birds that sing for the love 
of music, and not of their mates; who medi- 
tate their strains and amuse themselves with 
singing; the birds whose strains are of a 
deeper sentiment. — Thoreau. 



THE END. 



IO^ 



Snnes 



INDEX 



Adams, vj. Q. (1767-1848), 98. 

Addison, Joseph, 9, 72, 94. 

Aldrich, T. B., 10, 75, 103. 

Alcott, Louisa May, 12. 

Arnold, Matthew, 13. 

Bacon, Francis (1561-1626), 78, 88, 94. 

Balzac, Honore de (1799-1850), 73. 

Barlow, 73. 

Browning, Robert, 14, 74. 

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 15, 83. 

Bryant, William Cullen, 17, 88. 

Burns, Robert, 18, 72, 75. 

Bolton, Sarah K., 80. 

Billings, Josh, 82. 

Beecher, Henry Ward, 87. 

Bunyan, John (1628-1688), 99. 

Bryan, William Jennings (i860 ), 96. 

Byron, Lord, 35- 42. 45, 53, 58, 63. 

Cary, Alice, 20, 78, 86. 

Cary, Phoebe, 21. 

Carlyle, Thomas, 22, 81, 85, 89, 91, 95, 96. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 24, 73, 83, 94, 96. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 26, 77. 

Childs, Lydia Maria (1802-1880), 79. 

Co wper, William (1 731 -1800), 95. 

Dickens, Charles, 27. 

Dunbar, Paul Laurence, 29. 

Dryden, John, 30, 77. 

Dickinson, Emily, 105. 

Disraeli, Benjamin (1804-1880), 85. 

Dyke, Henry Van (1852 ), 104. 

Eliot, Charles W., 81. 

Eliot, George, 31, 74, 85. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 32, 76, 78, 86, 106. 

Franklin, Benjamin, 34, 89, 90, 98, 99, 100. 

Farrar, Canon, 79. 

109 



3n0e£ 



Field, Eugene (1850-1895), 83. 

Frobel, Frederic (1782-1852), 80. 

Gordon, Lord Byron, 35, 42, 45, 53, 58, 63, 83, 89, 102. 

Gray, Thomas, 37. 

Garfield, James A. (1831-1881), 77, 93, 97. 

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (1749-1832), 90. 

Gay, John (1688- 1732), 104. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, 38. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 39. 

Hemans, Felicia Dorothea, 40. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 42, 71, 84, 91, 100. 

Homer, 92. 

Howells, William Dean (1837 ), 7h 92. 

Hale, Mrs., 78. 
Hanford, T. W., 78. 
Herbert, George, 79. 

Howe, Julia Ward (1819 ), 77. 

Hillis, Newell Dwight (1858 ), 80, 95. 

Hugo, Victor (1802- 1885), 79. 
Ingelow, Jean (1830-1897), 99. 
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 43, 104. 
Jay, John (1744-1829), 93. 
Johnson, Samuel (1709- 1784), 90, 95. 
Keats, John (1 795-1821), 76, 78, 85, 95. 
Kingsley, Charles (1819-1875), 91. 

Kipling, Rudyard (1865 ), 98. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 45, 71, 87, 90, 102. 
Lowell, James Russell, 47, 71, 87, 99, 101, 102, 103, 105, 

106. 
Lamb, Charles (1775-1834), 101, 106. 
Lytton, Baron, Owen Meredith (1831-1892), 70, 80. 
Lytton, Lord (1805- 1873), 84, 86, 88. 
Lampton, W. J., 104. 
Larcom, Lucy (1826-1893), 105. 
Lanier, Sidney (1842-1881), 93, 104. 
Milton, John, 48, 86, 100. 

Mabie, H. W. (1845 ), 90. 

Maclaran, Ian, 82. 
Otway, Thomas (1651-1685), 70. 
Poe, Edgar Allan, 50, 74, 92. 
Pope, Alexander, 51, 94, 95. 

110 



SttOe* 



Pinckney, E. C, 7$. 

Philips, Wendell (1811-1884), 80, 81. 

Quincy, Thomas De (1785-1859), 75. 

Ruskin, John, 92. 

Randolph, John (1773-1833), 77, 80, 98. 

Riley, James Whitcomb ( 1852 ) , 87, 89, 90, 97. 

Roosevelt, Theodore (1858 ), 101. 

Shakespeare, William, 55, 71, 72, 79, 83, 85, 92, 93, 100, 

101. 
Scott, Sir Walter, 56, 92. 
Sangster, Margaret, 58. 
Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745), 72. 
Saxe, John Godfrey (1816-1887), 75, IOO. 
Sill, Edward Roland (1841-1887), 76. 
Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850- 1894), 84. 

Spalding, Bishop (1840 ), 84, 86. 

Southy, Robert (1774-1843), 85. 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822), 84, 92, 95. 

Sterling, 92. 

Stedman, Edmund Clarence (1833- 1908), 97. 

Smith, May Riley, 76. 

Seward, William H. (1801-1872), 98. 

Stowe, Harriet Beecher (1811-1898), 88. 

Tennyson, Alfred Lord, 59, 74, 81, 88, 104, 106. 

Thackeray, William Makepeace, 61. 

Thompson, Maurice, 106. 

Talmage, T. Dewitt (1832-1902), 81. 

Thoreau, Henry D. (1817-1862), 82, 87, 107. 

Thomas, Edith M., 103. 

Tourgee, A., 81. 

Walton, Izaak, 97. 

Washington, Booker T. (1850 ), 91. 

Washington, George (1732-1799), 77. 
Waterman, Nixon, 79. 

Watson, John — Ian Maclaran (1850 ),82. 

Webster, Daniel (1782-1852), 77, 81, 98. 

Wilcox, Ella Wheeler, 63. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf, 65, 75, 82, 88, 91, 94, 102, 105, 

106. 
Wordsworth, William, 67, 70, 72, 86. 
Whitman, Walt, 68. 

Ill 



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